Page 52 of A Ballad of Blackbirds and Betrayal

“Security?”Atticus asked, his voice carrying that particular stillness that preceded decisive action.

“Six personal bodyguards plus venue security and Secret Service for the senior officials.”Cal pulled up the building schematics on the main screen.“Mitchell’s been maintaining his usual packed schedule—committee hearings this morning, lunch with lobbyists, a ribbon-cutting at a veterans’ center this afternoon, and now this diplomatic reception.Acting like his operation hasn’t just been dismantled.I’ve identified three potential access points that bypass the main security checkpoints.And I have something better than standard infiltration.”

He slid a small velvet box across the table.Atticus opened it to reveal two elegant invitation cards embossed with gold lettering.

“Ambassador Daniels send his regrets,” Cal explained with a hint of satisfaction.“Sudden diplomatic emergency requiring his presence elsewhere.Very unfortunate.But his credentials have already been processed for security clearance, along with his attaché from the State Department, so their places at the reception—with full access to all areas of the venue—remain available.We’ve substituted your credentials as Deputy Assistant Secretary Rogers from the State Department’s European Affairs Bureau and his aide, Ms.Parker.”

“Ready to attend a diplomatic reception, Doc?”Atticus asked.

“I don’t recall packing formalwear for a bioweapon interception,” she replied dryly.

“Handled,” Eden said, gesturing to the garment bags hanging in the jet’s small closet.“Designer gown, your size.Shoes, jewelry, everything you need.We’ve thought of everything.”

“Of course you have,” Sabrina murmured, still adjusting to the seamless efficiency with which Dynamis operated.She caught Atticus watching her, something like appreciation warming his dark gaze as it traveled over her, already imagining her in formal attire.

“The plan isn’t just to confront him,” Atticus said, turning back to the tactical display.“It’s to trap him in his own words, in a room full of witnesses he can’t control or eliminate.”

He outlined the strategy quickly.The evidence of Mitchell’s bioweapon operation had been packaged into a digital file, ready for simultaneous distribution to every major news outlet, federal agency, and international security organization.The trigger for that distribution—a single command from Cal—would be activated only after they’d confronted Mitchell personally.

“We’re not just ending his career or sending him to prison,” Atticus said.“We’re destroying everything he’s built.His legacy.His reputation.His freedom.I want him to live long enough to watch it all crumble around him.”

“The team will be positioned here, here, and here,” Max added, indicating points on the hotel schematic.“Jade will maintain overwatch from the adjacent building.Nate and I will coordinate with our FBI contact—Deputy Director Kessler still owes us for Bucharest—to ensure federal agents are ready to move the moment we give the signal.”

“And Mitchell’s security?”Sabrina asked, studying the tactical plan.

“Will be occupied,” Eden replied with a cold smile that transformed her delicate features into something predatory.“Reza’s team has created a diversion that will draw at least half of them away from the ballroom at the critical moment.”

The plan was comprehensive, meticulous, and had the flexibility to adapt to changing circumstances—exactly what Sabrina would expect from an organization that had spent eight years preparing for this moment.

“Wheels down in seven minutes,” the pilot announced through the intercom.“Weather is clear, temperature 83 degrees with high humidity.Typical August in DC.”

Atticus turned to Sabrina, and for a brief moment, the commander receded, revealing the man beneath—the one who had held her through the night after the airfield, whose mouth had claimed hers with hunger that matched her own, whose eyes now held a promise deeper than their current mission.

“This ends tonight,” he said simply.“One way or another.”

“I know,” she replied, reaching for his hand.Their fingers intertwined, the contact brief but grounding.“And then we begin.”

Something flickered in his eyes—hope, perhaps, or the first tentative reach toward a future he hadn’t allowed himself to imagine for eight long years.He lifted their joined hands, brushing his lips across her knuckles in a gesture that sent heat cascading through her system despite the solemnity of the moment.

“Then we begin,” he agreed.

* * *

The Kennedy Center’s grand foyer epitomized Washington diplomacy and power—soaring ceilings, dramatic red carpeting, and the distinctive scent of international politics that manifested as discreet perfume, aged bourbon, and fresh flowers arranged in displays that probably cost more than most people’s monthly rent.The air-conditioning worked overtime against the oppressive August heat, creating an oasis of cool elegance that contrasted sharply with the muggy evening outside.Uniformed staff moved through the crowd with silent efficiency, offering champagne and hors d’oeuvres to guests who controlled billions in defense contracts and influenced global policy with casual remarks over drinks.

Sabrina felt eyes tracking her as they entered the reception hall, though whether due to the emerald silk gown that highlighted her amber eyes or the commanding presence of the man beside her, she couldn’t be certain.Atticus wore his tuxedo with the easy confidence of someone accustomed to moving in elite circles, though she noted the way his hand occasionally brushed the concealed weapon beneath his jacket—the soldier never fully at ease in civilian settings.

“Ah, Deputy Assistant Secretary Rogers!And Ms.Parker!”A silver-haired British diplomat approached, extending his hand with delicate formality.“I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced.Lord Whitmore, Deputy Foreign Secretary.We were told Ambassador Davis couldn’t attend.”

Sabrina knew Lord Whitmore was part of Atticus’s plan, and that the two had some history together.But the ease in which the two men fell into their roles was amazing.Hollywood should take note.

“Last-minute change of plans,” Atticus replied smoothly, slipping into his role without missing a beat.“We at the State Department are always happy to represent the Ambassador.”

“Indeed,” the diplomat replied, though something in his expression suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced.“Mitchell seems to be enjoying himself as well.He’s just over there, dominating the conversation as usual.”

Sabrina followed his gesture and saw Mitchell.He exuded the polished charisma of a career politician, his silver hair perfectly coiffed, his smile seemingly genuine as he clapped a foreign dignitary on the shoulder.Looking at him, one would never guess that he’d just watched his bioweapon operation dismantled in Texas.No hint that he’d orchestrated the development of a weapon capable of killing millions or that he maintained a veneer of respectability while dealing in death and corruption.

“The Ambassador’s viewing area is just there,” the diplomat continued, gesturing toward the right side of the reception hall.“Do try the canapés—they’re divine.”

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